


Late for Breakfast

by owlmoose



Series: Pieces of Thedas [46]
Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/M, Flash Fic, Fluff, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 07:50:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4779539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlmoose/pseuds/owlmoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is rare for Nathaniel to oversleep on the road. Bethany takes advantage of the situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late for Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seimaisin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seimaisin/gifts).



> Written for seimaisin, to the prompt "a sexy touch in a not-necessarily sexy place."

From the smell of bacon and coffee wafting across camp, someone was already cooking breakfast, but Nathaniel Howe still slept, gently snoring. Bethany stood in the entrance to the tent and watched him, a half smile playing across her lips. It was rare for Nathaniel to oversleep, especially on the road, and she let herself soak in the moment – enjoying not only the peaceful expression on his sleeping face, but the smug satisfaction of catching him at it.

He had cocooned himself in the bedroll, swaddled from head to toe but for his right foot, which somehow had found a gap and was sticking out into the air. Bethany let the tent flap fall closed behind her, then knelt down, wrapping her hand around his bare ankle. She fought the temptation to tickle his toes and tugged gently on his foot instead. “Hey, sleepyhead,” she said.

Nathaniel made a snuffling noise, twitched, and then opened his eyes. “Wha- who- what time is it?”

“An hour past sun-up.” Bethany tightened her grip around his foot as he sat up and rubbed a hand over his face. “You overslept.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, tousled hair falling over his forehead. “And whose fault is that?”

She smiled back, shifting her thumb to stroke the inside of his instep, careful to use enough pressure to make it a solid caress. He made another noise, a rumbling sigh of contentment this time. “I think we can both share the blame for that one.”

He leaned forward, not pulling away from her hand. “And whose fault will it be if we miss breakfast?”

Touching her forehead to his, drawing another long stroke down his sole, she tipped her head sideways for a kiss. “Guilty as charged, Master Howe,” she breathed, and then he wrapped her in the covers, too.


End file.
